Goodbye, My Love
by mooncoffee
Summary: Legolas ficlet. Angsty, deals with what he let behind and has lost forever. Features Arwen. Themes of death.


She stood by the window, wind whipping dark hair away from her face. The moon stared insolently back, and she was reminded of Arwen's earlier gaze. Daughter of Elrond, beautiful beyond compare, had taken her away to one side.

__

"Why so sad, Iaurdriel?"

"For the same reasons as you, my lady," she had replied, dipping into a half-hearted curtsy. Arwen had given a bitter smile, and cast her eyes around the room, until they came to rest on Aragorn. 

  
"I doubt it very much," she said, exhaling softly. "These are hard times, strange times for us all. Tell me, do you sing well?"  
  
"Not very…as well as any other Elf, I suspect," Iaurdriel added cautiously.

"I should like to sing, in Lothlorien. Have you visited there before?"  
  
"Forgive me, lady, I have not been so lucky," said Iaurdriel, her blue eyes shining. She had grown with stories of Lothlorien ringing in her ears, yet had never made the journey. After all, for Elves time stretched in a never-ending moment, and she knew that she wanted the trip to be right. Wanted to go there with the right person. With him. She felt Arwen's eyes upon her once more, and blushed. 

"Apologies, I was thinking of something else," she blustered.  
  
"Perhaps you and I are more alike than I first thought," said the other Elf, somewhat mysteriously. "It is hard to let a loved one leave, yet it is something we must do, for the good of all." Arwen's voice took on a distant tone, and it seemed she was quoting someone else's words. "After all, what is one man…one Elf…if he saves a million more? Think on it, fair cousin. Think on it."  
  
With that, she left.

It was quiet. Iaurdriel would have said silent, if it hadn't been for the evening buzz of those still talking into the early hours. Remembering that question (tell me, do you sing well) she was filled with the sudden, mad desire to do so. Perhaps he would hear her, far and away, over the hills, in the distance. Perhaps the part of his heart that lived in song would remember, and weep, and rejoice.

A half-remembered tune, and song taught to her by one of the Men who sometimes stopped in Elven halls came to her lips. A simple tune, mournful, and her inexperienced voice rang out in the cool night air.

"My lover's gone. His boots no longer by my door, he left at dawn. And as I slept I felt him go. Returns no more." 

Birdsong had woken her, and the realisation that she slept alone in a bed already cold dawned as slowly as the sun. Shaking, she stood, and ran to the window. Iaurdriel felt trapped in this glass room, and longed to cry out.

To tell him to stop. To tell him to stay awhile longer. To scream and shout that to her it seemed he'd only arrived a few hours previous after a few years of separation, and to hear him tell her again, tell her that he loved her. That he would defy his father and leave his home as long as they would have each other.

Of course he never would. For Legolas Greenleaf had gone. And he didn't love her.

"I will not watch the ocean, my lover's gone. No earthly ships will ever bring him home again…bring him home again."

__

"Could you ever leave me?"  
  
A curious smile rose on his perfect lips, and she felt his fingers run through her hair once more.

  
"Could I ever leave you is an odd question, dear Iaur."  
  
"Then would you be so obliging as to give me an odd answer?" she asked again, before prodding him with a newly sharpened arrow. He took it easily from her grasp and added it to the pile he was working on.

"Yes, then. I could leave you, for who am I to change the winds of fate? I could be torn from your side in some unpredicted gale, I could be pushed into a river by some passingly destructive Orc! Would I ever want to leave your side is the real question."  
  
"Then answer that one, and infuriate me no longer!" she said, grinning, though inside her breast Iaurdriel's heart was beating faster than a drum."  
  
"No. No, I would never want to," he replied intently. Each word was spoken with the quiet passion she knew he possessed, and at that moment the drumming beat ceased. Her heart sang like a finely tuned arrow, loosed from his bow, and she kissed him gently.

"Good."  


"My lover's gone, I know that kiss will be my last. No more his song, the tune upon his lips has passed. I sing alone, while I watch the ocean…" 

__

"Lady Arwen!"  


"Yes?"  


"When…if you would permit me to ask this of you…when did the Fellowship leave?"  
  
"Two hours earlier. I had thought you would be there…." Arwen allowed the question to trail into obscurity as she saw the tears running down Iaurdriel's face. "What is it?"  
  
"He never told me."  


"I am certain that he thought it would be for the best…remember my words, Iaurdriel, for the good of all, the good of millions, one Elf alone does not matter…"  
  
"He does matter! He matters to me! And I thought…I thought I mattered to him," she finished, her voice choked with emotion. Recovering herself, Iaurdriel looked up in horror. "Forgive me, lady, I was not thinking…affections wane in the heart's absence, naturally…it was inevitable that one day we should part…"  
  
"I don't think that is what transpired…I know he thought highly of you, and with great fondness, great love," said Arwen in alarm. "Your absence…"  
  
"I am fine, lady." The other Elf met Arwen's gaze, her eyes level and calm. "We cannot all find a love as great as yours."  


"My lover's gone, no earthly ships will ever bring him home again…bring him home again."

There was a pause, and she realised the tears had started once more. Not for much longer. Soon she would never cry again. Scarcely trusting her own hand, Iaurdriel looked into the moon's cruel coldness. It sickened her, and so she found the Evenstar, fixed on to its comforting light. 

"Legolas! Legolas! Can you hear me, so sharp of ear and fleet of foot? Hear me now! Your love has gone, and so I…" her voice broke, and she swallowed a heavy sob. "So I have nothing! I am alone, Legolas! Left…and so I will die, alone and unloved. Hear me, all who may be foolish enough to fall…be sure that love is returned in like. Be certain, for there is a sting in the tail of adulation! I still love him…I still love you, my Legolas!" she cried, and heard many Elves awaken, heard many windows opened, saw briefly the horrified eyes of Arwen lose their sleep-filled ambivalence as she plunged the dagger deep into her chest.

There was the sharp pain, the hot blood that spilled on to her hands. Screams from below and as she fell no arms to catch her. Only a broken heart, that wept its red, red tears all around her porcelain skin.

*****

"Do you hear something?" said Frodo, to nobody in particular. They had been travelling for roughly a day, and he was not yet well aquainted with three of his companions. Gimli and Boromir seemed friendly enough, yet fair Legolas had remained quiet. Now the Elf seemed more alert than ever, for he jumped to a rock, and stared into the distance. Frodo fancied he saw the pointed ears prick even more. 

"What of it, Legolas," enquired Aragorn, after more than a minute had passed. Sighing heavily, the blonde Elf began to walk again, shouldering his bow. "I fancied that I heard someone singing," he muttered.

Something settled uneasily on his chest. Leaving Iaurdriel like that had been the best way, the only way (could you ever leave me) he told himself. This journey was one he must undertake, despite their love, and as Aragorn had told Arwen, what was one man's life if a million were saved? If the situation had been reversed, he knew he wouldn't have let her go.

So leaving without a word, secretly, had been the only way. Smiling suddenly as he remembered her fiery spirit in contrast to his own, more free-flowing mindset. No, Iaurdriel would have found a way to come with him. When he returned home he could tell her that he hadn't meant to be so underhand, hadn't wanted to leave her. It was for her own safety…a hard knot tied in his stomach when he thought of harm coming to her. When he returned, she would likely be sitting by the river bank, watching the swimmers, laughing with friends.

He would jump easily from his saddle, and perhaps whistle as he walked over, causing her to turn. She would jump up in delight, and run to him. He would swing her into his arms, and then she would hit him and scold him. They would kiss.

"What sort of singing?" came a voice from somewhere near his waist. The Hobbit, Frodo was staring up at him with large and innocent eyes.

  
"Sad," he said shortly. "Do you sing?"  
  
"Not as well as Bilbo. Did you know him?"  
  
"We've met."  
  
"Do you miss home?" 

"I miss Iaurdriel." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and Legolas felt a blush rise in his cheeks. 

  
"Is she your sister?"  
  
"No. I love her," he replied, amazed at his boldness, and the rightness of the words on his tongue. The Hobbit by his side smiled, and not in an unkind way. Legolas smiled back, and shook his head. "I love her," he repeated, wonderingly. "Yet I should not dwell on such things. It is a long journey ahead, and she will always wait for me."  
  
"You are very lucky, to have a love such as that," said Frodo, wistfully.

"Yes. Yes, I am that."  


*****

Arwen felt tears prick her eyes. The sound of the wild waters complemented the Elvish lament, sung by Iaurdriel's graveside. All were quiet and weeping as the final flowers were strewn, the final notes died away. When she was left alone, Arwen knelt.

Although she hadn't know Iaurdriel well, she'd felt a common bond with her. Both had lovers gone to meet their deaths, and both were strong. At least, Arwen had seen that fire in Iaurdriel's soul. Perhaps not strong enough to take what she had misinterpreted as rejection. The fire that had stoked the Elvish maiden's passion had clouded her eyes, and consumed her senses.

Fresh sorrow came as she thought of the days to come. For if he survived, Legolas would learn of this.

Hard times. Bad times. Sad times, indeed.

*****

He slid heavily from the saddle, and Gimli looked on. Her grave was marked by the flowers growing all around.

Legolas didn't cry. He had no more tears left.

"By the water. She loved it here," he murmured, walking slowly to the side of the bank. Crouching, he pulled something from around his neck, where it had hung close to his heart. A small, Elf-wrought locket containing a curl of her hair. 

"Your knife, Gimli," he asked in a dull monotone, still staring ahead. The dwarf didn't speak and passed him the blade. With little effort, Legolas cut away some of his own hair, and fastened it in the locket. His hand shaking slightly, he placed it at the head of the grave.

"Goodbye, my love."  


Turning to his friend, Legolas strode back to his horse, and began to ride at a hard gallop in the opposite direction. Gimli was glad that they had finally made a visit here. Now ghosts had been laid to rest, perhaps the Elf could carry on living.

Saluting the grave, Gimli followed Legolas into the distance. He didn't hear the faint whisper, carried by the wind, nor did he see the sparkling blue eyes shine from the abruptly still waters.

"Goodbye, my love…" 

__


End file.
